As we did last year, my friends and I are having our ‘real’ Thanksgiving on Saturday, so today I made cranberry sauce and had some with the roast chicken I picked up yesterday at the store.  It was quite the little feast.  Stuffing will get made at some point in the next two days, as well as pie, and I just have to resist eating it all myself before Saturday.

Which will be a real challenge, if the stuffing turns out as nicely as it did last time!  It’s hard enough leaving that tub of cranberry alone…it tastes like home, and I don’t know if it’s because of the holiday or what, but I am feeling quite homesick and lonely of late.  I’ve been working diligently on my term papers, a little each day, in a display of discipline that surely won’t last much longer.  When I’m not doing that, I’m knitting, or reading for pleasure, so you’d think I’d be too busy to fret over what city I happen to be living in.  I guess it must be the time of year.  I’m down here, where it’s six o’clock and there’s still light in the sky, the air is warm, and there are robins calling outside my window.  This should be the time when the rains pick up, and the wind comes in, it gets dark at four in the afternoon, and the little things like a cup of tea and a lit candle mean a lot more.

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